Second Chances
by FrostAndFroth
Summary: Just a couple of days before graduation, Harry Potter disappears. The last person he was with was Severus Snape. What will happen when he returns 15 years later with a son who knows nothing about his second father? sshp snarry WARNING: MPREG
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Okay, this is set after Deathly Hallows, but Snape doesn't die… everyone else does though :( I always thought that Harry would've liked to go through his 7th year and finish school.

**Some Friendly Advice: **[because I'm friendly and you know it. No? Fine…] Change the story width to **1/2 **and **enlarge** the font size twice.

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Harry Potter or the book's characters… I only own my characters which are the spawn of the Harry Potter characters and some which are not; okay I'm talking too much.

**Warning:**

Rated **M **just in case.

This story contains **MPREG **(that's male pregnancy, something that only a bored m/m HP fan would make up…)if that makes you throw up then **do not continue**. Your computer, your eyes and your throat will thank you in the future.

This story is a **Snarry/SSHP/SSxHP** …you get the point. So therefore, it includes male/male [I am hoping that means boy/boy love and NOT yaoi or smut… 'cause I don't write that… I just sort of fade it out, but it DOES happen... just faded out :)

. . . . .

It was a couple of months from graduation when Harry practically knocked Snape's door down. He found an old journal that belonged to his father as he was packing for the Easter Holidays, he read through passages and passages of insults and hexes that he'd thought funny, it was the middle of the night but the boy didn't care, he donned his invisibility cloak immediately and ran to the Potions Master's quarters.

The door opened and Snape glared down at the boy, "It's the middle of the night. What do you want, Potter?"

"I'd like a word, sir." Said Harry.

Snape seemed to ponder on this and nodded, "Make it quick. I've got work to do." Both surprising and relieving Harry.

Harry sighed in relief and walked in, awkwardly sitting on the chair in front of Snape's desk. He watched as the older man continued a letter he was writing. It seemed funny to him then, that after having encountered death, loss and more situations where he could've lost his life than anyone else in the world, after defeating the most powerful dark wizard of all time, after passing such a mundane thing as 6th year exams, after having almost finished school. After all that. He was still highly intimidated by the greasy Potions Master.

Moments passed in silence and Snape looked up, "You wanted a word, Potter?"

"Um… yes sir. I'd – I'd like to ask, sir. It's been months since – since you know – and… you still _hate_ me." Harry blushed, realising how childish the question sounded.

Snape ignored him and kept writing.

"_Sir."_ Said Harry. "Were you listening?" Harry's embarrassment was fading away and replacing it was anger.

"Yes, Potter." Snape looked up and glared at him. "I am not an imbecile. I thought I made it clear when you took my memories away from me."

"Yes, but…"

"But what, Potter."

"I – I—" Harry took a deep breath and began slowly, "It's the end of year, sir."

"That is not my problem, Potter." Snape dropped his quill. "If this conversation isn't going anywhere, I suggest you go back to your dorms and quit wasting my time."

"No."

"What?"

"No."

"20 points from Gryffindor."

"It doesn't matter. I don't care."

"Another 20."

"Just listen to me!" Harry was shaking in his seat, not believing that this man actually thought that taking points from his House could make him leave just like that.

"10 points."

"I saved your life."

"My life didn't need saving."

"I don't care."

"What, Potter?"

"I don't care if you think you're worthless, I didn't save your life just because I just felt like it. I saved it because I needed you and I still do."

"I am of no use to you or to anyone. You're deluding yourself, Potter."

"Will you stop calling me that!" Harry shouted. "Every time you call me that, you're only reminding me that I'm James's son. James's equal and I know that's true and I can't change the truth, but I'm also Lily's. And you never even gave the part of _her_ that was in me a chance. You never gave _me_ a chance." Harry stood up and leaned over the desk, his face so close to Snape's that he could feel his breath and it infuriated him even more.

"Life is a bitch, Potter and if you haven't understood that at such an age, with such experience, then I have overestimated you, and I assure you—"

"Will you listen to yourself! You _never_ stop to think that _maybe_, just maybe you _refuse_ to accept people for who they are? You're criticising me like you would criticise my father! The James you knew was a boy who thought bullying others was funny. I would never sink to that level, Snape." Tears were forming in the boy's eyes from frustration.

"Does this hurt you, Potter?" Said Snape with a slight smile.

"I knew it." Harry murmured. "Everyone said you couldn't listen. Everyone said you were deluded. You never want to listen to anyone."

"Excuse me." Said Snape, walking around the desk. "I have been listening to orders upon orders for years, from the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. Don't you dare tell me I haven't been listening. I'm sick and tired of being ordered around, boy. For once, I'm in control of my own life and you _dare _accuse me of having never listened?" Snape almost hit the boy, but he stopped when he saw the boy shaking, his entire face was red and tears continuously fell from his face.

"I'm sorry." He whimpered. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He kept repeating. "I didn't want the conversation to go this way. I'm sorry." He took his glasses off, they were stained with tears, they were useless for now, he put them in his pocket then he looked right at Snape. "I'm—"

"Save the pity party for your friends, Potter. You'll have to be that shallow as to think I'm actually going to sympathise for you. Wipe your face and get out." Snape was afraid. He was afraid that he would've been too tempted to comfort the boy. He loved him. For a long time now. But that longing also brought along fear and he found himself covering it all up with hate.

Harry didn't answer.

"Do not be stubborn with me, Potter. I am not in the mood."

"I'm not leaving until I get my point across. I don't care if it takes until morning or if I have to come back every day until you let me take some of your time to listen. I don't care."

Snape's hand twitched as if he would hit the boy, but then he sighed, and sat back on his chair with his arms folded. He glared at the boy and waited for him to 'get his point across.' He damn well knew how persistent—no, stubborn, we mustn't credit the insolent brat—the boy was. "So, Potter?"

Harry looked up and was surprised to see Snape looking so patient. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and started, "Well—"

"Merlin, are you that unhygienic, Potter that you have never learned of a _handkerchief_? Honestly. Utterly disgusting." He kept muttering as he opened a drawer and threw a newly laundered one across the table.

"I'm _sorry _for being so fuckin_g rude_, _sir_." He wiped his face and when he looked up he saw his professor seething with rage.

"For someone who just cried like a girl, Potter, I would've thought you'd have enough sense not to push your emotions any further."

Harry couldn't help himself. "And for a grown man of _thirty-eight_. I wouldn't have thought you could be able to PMS like a _teenage girl!_"

"Mister Potter…" Harry knew he pushed the man too far.

Harry stood his ground. Staring at the man and breathing heavily, his heart beating fast against his chest. He remained silent, his eyes, however, were a whole other story.

Neither man knew how long they stood there staring at each other. It was Snape who broke the silence, his calm voice surprising Harry. "I'm going to pretend this never happened, Potter, if you leave. Now."

Harry nodded and left. They pretended to forget what had happened for the remainder of the year.

It would have been two weeks before graduation, when Harry had already sat his finals that Harry finally cracked.

He walked down the dungeons, hidden, again, in his father's Invisibility Cloak. Remembering their last private meeting, he decided he wouldn't have an argument with his Professor and as much as possible, he wouldn't have small talk, either. He knocked on the door and captured the man's lips the moment the door opened, by instinct, the man had him blasted into a wall with not too much damage and the boy started laughing his head off.

"What is it that you found so hilarious, Potter?" Said Snape as he offered a hand to help the boy up.

The first thing that Harry noticed, once upright, was that his usually pale Potions Professor had gone pink.

"I've never been blasted into a wall for kissing someone before." He said.

"And I assure you, it will never happen again."

Snape was staring down at him and he had to admit, it was quite intimidating. "I apologise, sir."

"Regrets are a weakness, Potter." Said Snape, wiping his mouth with the back of his jacket sleeve, even if it was almost summer and the heat was getting unbearable without a cooling spell.

"I'm sorry."

"How many times—!" Snape's voice was rising and he stopped himself from shouting.

Harry looked down. Suddenly, the kiss on his lips felt like sin. He was disgusted of himself for acting so rashly and he was ashamed of himself for wanting _more_. He brought his arms behind his back and started scratching at them until he felt blood streaming down his wrist. Snape caught the boy wincing and pulled his hands forward, watching the guilt on his face.

"Stupid." He muttered as he quickly healed the boys arm, removing the pain that he needed so bad. Harry didn't turn to self-harm too often, this was just the second time… the first time wasn't even wanted; it was brought upon by Umbridge… several times actually. "I want you to listen to me, Potter. You will never do this again." He nodded. "Good." He felt his lips press onto his forehead and reached down to his lips, Harry pulled his face back.

"I'm sorry." Snape muttered and pulled back, but Harry pulled him back in an embrace. Neither knew how long they stood there in each other's arms, it could've been ten minutes or an eternity for all they cared.

Harry came back to the dungeons that night. There was no shouting this time.

"I'm in love with you." Harry closed his eyes, waiting for reality to sink in. He expected to be slapped, he expected to be shouted at, to be told to forget about it, that he was an idiot and he didn't know what love was, but then there were his lips, and the man was kissing him and for a moment, he didn't know what to do but stand there.

"I'm in love with you." Harry repeated.

"Shh…" Snape moved from his mouth to his chin, trailing kissed down to his neck. He nipped and sucked until Harry let out a small moan, then he stopped, looking unsure, worried.

"It's okay."

Snape hesitated.

"I swear it is." Harry pulled him in for another kiss and Snape found himself unbuttoning the boy's shirt and watching the material as it fell to the ground, again, he pressed his lips to the boys mouth. It didn't end there.

The morning they woke up, Snape demanded Harry to leave, practically shoving him out the door. Harry never went to his graduation. No one knew why.

. . . . .

Harry

. . . . .

_15 years later…_

_"Dad!_" Silas laughed. "Stop it! _Stop_—"

Harry dodged as his son tried to shoot at him with a watergun. Wand at the ready, he pointed it at him and yelled, "_Aguamenti!_" A jet of water shot towards the boy. It hit him square in the chest and splashing on his face, he coughed and sputtered and at the same time, dodged the stream of water his dad was shooting at him.

"_No fair!_ No fair! I'm not allowed to use a wand out of school yet!"

"All right." Said Harry. "We're done." He felt something wet trickling down his hair and he realised his son picked up one of the smaller water guns and was shooting at him with it. "_Impervius._"

"Geez." Silas groaned. "You're such a killjoy." He fell onto one of the chairs on their back porch, Harry lied down on the one beside him.

Silas supported himself on one elbow and stretched his neck to look at his dad, who had his eyes closed and his hands on his chest as if he were sleeping. "Hey Dad?"

Harry opened one eye, "Yeah?"

"I found this thing in my drawer."

"Yeah?" '_Not last week's pizza. Please.'_

"It was a diploma… from this Hogwarts place, I think." '_Oh. That.'_

"Yeah?" Harry sat up, remembering how he received it from the mail…

"What's Hogwarts?"

"It was my High School." Harry shrugged, hoping he'd lay off the topic.

Silas leaned forward and whispered, "I wanna go there, too. "

"Don't be ridiculous, you're just getting into High School this year. You already applied." Harry was starting to get nervous.

"Yeah," Silas said. "But I don't really feel like going to Michigan's, you know?"

"What's wrong with Michigan's?" Harry asked.

"I wanna... I don't know. I wanna go to England, I wanna see where you grew up and stuff. I mean, we've never left the country. I'm getting into High School, it's just the right time, isn't it? I can meet all your friends and stuff." Friends…? They must've forgotten. _Surely_ they've forgotten.

"Secondary School there starts when you're eleven. Besides, I'm not even sure if they'll accept you into Hogwarts, they have each student accepted, you don't really just get into a grade. All—if not most—the people there started from their first year." He started tapping his fingers on the arm rest nervously.

"Can we just sort of go there for a little while, see if they accept me and if they don't… well screw it, right?"

Harry was silent for a while before nodding. "Sure." He said, his face blank, but inside, a ton of memories overwhelmed him. Friends, family… what he's left behind… He's been hiding his – their – son for 15 years now, maybe no one would remember, maybe everything will be okay. Maybe _he_ would have forgotten.

Silas got up, saying something about taking a shower and giving Harry some time to think on it.

Harry leaned back into his chair again remembering finding out, they had sex education at Hogwarts, he knew that wizards could get pregnant – in fact, they usually found out much earlier than witches as it caused a lot of hormonal changes, after that, the pregnancy would have been much too obvious. But he never knew it could happen to him. The memory was so fresh that it could have just been yesterday that he enveloped himself in his invisibility cloak, tears flowing down his face and his heart hammering in his chest. Deluding himself into thinking that _he_ didn't want him. _Knowing_ he didn't want him. But what hurt the most was that _he_ still wanted him. He remembered the pain, guilt and regret that he once felt, the vulnerability.

And freedom.

There was freedom. No more cameras following him. No more interviews. No more letters. He could start anew. He remembered moving in to his first house and taking care of everything, Withdrawing all his money from Gringotts and using it to buy whatever baby products he could lay his hands on. He remembered the first time he saw and held his son and he cried. From pain and happiness. Pain that his other father wasn't there to comfort him, to see his child, to grow with him and happiness through knowing he could have this one person, however insignificant he may have been at that moment, to have Harry's blood and _his_ blood flowing in his veins. To love someone who would love him back. He was 18. And he was foolish.

Harry got up and just reached his son down the hall, a towel on his shoulder. "Hey Si?" The boy turned around. "Let's just write a letter and see what happens."

He wasn't ready yet, but he'd go to the ends of the world for his boy.

. . . . .

"Dad! Dad!" Silas jumped on Harry and started punching him. "Dad, wake up!"

"Wha'? Wha'! 'Kay, tell me, I'm 'wake… an' quit punchin' me…"

"Professor McGonagall answered! She said another Fourth Year hasn't answered yet and they could accept me, dad!" Silas started jumping again.

"Pr…fess…. Said what?" Harry rubbed his eyes and checked his watch. 5 a.m. Bloody hell.

"Professor McGonagall's accepting me to Hogwarts!"

"A'right… go back to sleep."

When he woke up again later in the morning, he sat up in bed as if struck by lightning and yelled out, "What in the name of Merlin's—"

"_Dad._"

"Holy shit!"


	2. Chapter 2

Harry looked around nervously around King's Cross station, being there in London, back where all of it started was making him nostalgic. Silas's eyes were darting back and forth, looking at the signs stating which platform they were currently on, stopping occasionally and then pressing forward again.

Harry's eyes were darting back and forth, too, but it wasn't from excitement. He was worried that someone might recognise him but no one did. He knew it was absurd, he cast all the charms on his face, barely making him recognisable, even if anyone stood five inches in front of him and squinted – which he highly doubted would happen – but he had to admit, ever since the war and Silas, he's become more paranoid than he ever wanted to be.

"Dad?" Silas said. "Stop touching my hair please."

"Oh. Right." Harry laughed shakily.

He wondered if anyone would slap him if they recognised him, but that was near impossible, not only were charms cast on his face, he grew a beard—not too long though, that was just irritated him. He switched to contacts, the glasses were getting a bit bothersome and in his nineteen-year-old desperation not to be recognised, he occasionally changed the lens colour, he also grew his hair out a bit and a few greys were starting to pop out. He shook his head and watched his son, who was staring at a boy with an owl on his shoulder. "You just lean into this wall with me, all right?"

"Yeah…"

"Silas? You listening?"

"Huh?

"You just lean into this wall with me."

"This is _so_ cool." Silas did it a bit too quickly and fell on his butt.

"Smooth." Harry couldn't help saying and then continued to look around.

"Dad, you look like you're on the run from the cops." Silas smiled.

"Okay, you know what to do right?" Harry said, ignoring Silas's comment. "You still have to put on the sorting hat and _don't complain_, you're the one who wanted to be transferred in the middle of the school year—I don't care if you stick out like a sore thumb—actually I do… screw it. I already sent them your report cards so they know which subjects to put you in."

"Right, dad." Silas said. "I'll miss you."

"Write every month, at least. And tell me what House you're in as soon as possible or I'll barge in and figure out myself, all right?"

"You are _so_ embarrassing."

"Sure, now kiss me goodbye."

"_No._"

"Fine. Good luck Silas!" Harry forced a smile as Silas waved and boarded the train, Harry watching it move away. He was worried for his son, he didn't warm up too quickly to people. He was starting to fear that he might get bullied the way Se—_he_ had. He was also—he was _always_—worried about his son's condition, it wasn't obvious, but it always worried him. Abnormalities weren't rare in male pregnancies.

At the same time, he still couldn't fight the feeling that _he_ would surely recognise the boy. He had the same messy hair as Harry did, and he kept it shoulder length. He had _his_ exact eyes and the boy's nose was slightly hooked, he was tall for his age and he had the Potion Master's skin and because of the long hours out on the beach, the boy was covered in freckles.

. . . . .

"First time at Hogwarts?"

Silas was sitting in a compartment with a blue-haired boy, it had been half an hour since he got on and this was the first time he spoke.

"Ye—"

"'Cause I haven't seen you here before or are you an exchange student?"

"I just transferred, actually." Silas said.

The boy was searching his pockets for something when he finally found a piece of half eaten chocolate and ate it right there. "You have a name?"

"Silas Prince."

"Never heard of that name before." He seemed to think about this for a while then he shrugged. "_Prince._ How long have you been here? You don't sound too British… maybe a little English, but I could be wrong. I'm Teddy by the way."

"My dad's English." Silas said.

"And your Mum?" The boy said.

"I don't really know…" Silas was embarrassed to admit that he didn't have a mother and never had one. His dad had him grow up used to the idea that two men could get children as much as a man and a woman could. What embarrassed him further was that he had no idea who his other father was; he knew the man would have had a hooked nose, though, that was obvious. "What about you?"

"My parents died."

"I'm sorry—"

"But my relatives are amazing. They're not really my relatives, but they're as close as. Two of them are going to be our Professors at Hogwarts, say, what year are you?"

"Fourth."

"Me, too!" Suddenly, the boy had a spark in his eye. "This is great, mate!" Then he frowned. "What House do you think you're going to be in?"

"Gryffindor, I guess—"

"Great! I'm in Gryffindor, so if you're there, we can bug the guys extra long at night." The boy then rambled into a long description of his dorm mates. "Well first there's Nell, his dad's an Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt? He guarded the Prime Minister before when times were rough. Poor guy died, though."

"He mustn't be very good then." Silas said.

"Are you kidding me? He's one of the best! Where were we? Oh and then there's Caspar—_'Caspar Black _the fourth, _don't forget that now. _The fourth!' As if he expects us to go over to him during breakfast and yell out 'Oi! Caspar Black the Fourth! You left your knickers in my drawer again!' _Merlin_. All his family's been in Slytherin. Really wish he was put in that House, but old Cassie—don't tell him I called him that—can be damn useful at times. He's got connections, that kid. And then there's old Ethan Doge, dopey little fella, he only reaches until my shoulders, he forgets everything. He's nice, though, old Ethan, real cuddly as the girls put it. And then there's me, Ted Remus Lupin, but _please_ call me Teddy. How about you?"

"Well, I've lived in America all my life—this is my first time out of the country… um… I have a little sister, Lily, she's 4 and there's my dad."

"And who's your dad?"

"Har—Gordon Prince." Harry always told Silas _never_ to tell others his real name.

"So…" Teddy poked his tongue in his cheek and looked around awkwardly.

Silas nodded and took a book out of his bag. Silas had just opened his book when Teddy yelled out, "Victoire! I thought you'd never find me!"

Silas raised his eyes to the young girl in the doorway and she eyed him back, her grimace turning into a quick smile. "Hi." Silas gave an awkward wave and quickly lowered his eyes to his book again.

"He's _so_ shy!" He heard Victoire say followed by a giggle as she sat beside Teddy.

"That's 'cause your probably scared the hell out of him, Vic." Teddy hissed.

The corner of Silas' lip twitched.

"Where's he from? I've never seen him before." Victoire whispered.

"America, he says." Teddy whispered back.

Silas nearly screamed when Victoire just _landed_ beside him. "Hello."

"Hm."

"I'm Victoire." She offered her hand and Silas reached for it awkwardly.

"Silas. Silas Prince."

"Prince? Never heard that before."

"That's what _he_ said." Silas pointed to Teddy who—not having heard the conversation—looked scandalised and mouthed _'Me?_'

Silas continued reading again, barely hearing Victoire and Teddy from across their compartment.

. . . . .

"Prince, Silas!" Hagrid yelled out, he introduced himself to them—Silas and the first years— on the way. Silas was hunching his back the entire time in an effort to look as small as the first years. He walked towards the stool and put the hat on his head.

"_Nervous, are we?" _The hat said.

"_A little." _He thought.

"_A little less nervous than a Hufflepuff… Smart… could befit a Ravenclaw… but you act on your instinct, do you boy? You've got Slytherin blood in you, too. A mighty fine Slytherin you could make… "_

"_Anything but Slytherin." _He thought.

"_You're father was a Slytherin…"_

"What—?"

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat yelled. Silas sat on the chair for a while before the cheering started to register. Shakily, he walked to the table and sat down between Teddy and a black haired boy that looked _so dignified_, Silas guessed that this was Caspar.

As he turned towards Teddy, he realised the boy's hair colour got lighter now, but maybe it was just the lighting in the hall. Silas was still confused about the hat saying that his father had been a Slytherin. Harry was a _Gryffindor_, he knew that well, it was even on his diploma. How can… Suddenly Victoire nudged him before sitting in between him and Teddy—his hair colour changed again to red—and they did some sort of handshake for a bit before talking. Suddenly, he heard a huge popping sound and Victoire jumped about a foot into the air, flushed red and glared at a boy about 5 seats down.

"Fred!" She yelled. "That one actually hurt!"

The boy shrugged and casually ignored her.

"He's going to be the death of me." She shook her head and folded her arms

Teddy was laughing and gave Fred a thumbs up before turning to the girl, they started talking and Silas ignored them until he felt someone nudge him again, he looked up at Victoire and she smiled at him, "So you're going to be Teddy's roommate, then?"

He nodded.

"And you're new?"

Nod.

"Do you know anyone around here?"

Silas shook his head then stopped, "Well, you two."

"Well, if you wanna know anything around here, all you have to do is ask me or Teddy, all right? We know a lot of stuff that goes on in here. Let me fill you in on the Professors, that on the far left is Professor Snape, he's the Potions Master, beside him is Professor Scamander, the Care of Magical Creatures Professor—my uncle. Beside him is Ron—but you have to call him Professor Weasley—he's _also _my uncle, beside him is Professor Granger, she teaches Transfigurations, she's my aunt." She went on a long winded explanation on each Professor and was forced to stop when the food showed up

When Silas turned around, Teddy had the same exact hairstyle as he did, except it was brown. Teddy looked up and saw him staring, "What?"

"That's _my_ hair."

"I liked it." Teddy shrugged. When I kept staring Teddy continued, "Oh! It's 'cause I'm a metamorphmagus."

Silas gaped at him.

"Shut your mouth, flies will swarm in by the flock." _God, this kid is going to be my _idol_ if he keeps talking like that._

SilasI smiled and looked up at the staff table when the food turned up. He found Professor Snape staring at him, his face scrunched up in a "what the hell are you staring at me for?" way and the man immediately averted his gaze.

. . . . .

Silas had to sleep in a bunk bed underneath Teddy because there wasn't room for one more bed in the fourth year dorm. In California, he didn't go to a boarding school so all of this was new territory for him.

"What's our first class?" Teddy asked.

"I think it's Potions." said Silas

"Damn, on a Monday, too! Way to start a week, eh?"

"What're you talking about?"

"Snape, the Potion's Professor, is a total git." Just at that moment, he remembered to write back to his dad, he quickly scrawled down "gyrfimdor" and walked over to his bedside table, where his owl sat in his cage.

"Take this to dad, Hitler." He didn't really care if he spelled the house wrong. When he turned around to ask Teddy what he just said, he heard snoring from the top bunk. Silas shrugged and crawled into bed, but thoughts kept running through his head, keeping him up into the night.

. . . . .

"You're late, boys."

"Sorry, sir." Teddy said immediately.

"And you, Mr Prince?" Silas saw a flicker of irritation cross his face when he said 'Prince'. He couldn't help but wonder what this guy's problem was.

"Sorry, sir."

"20 points from Gryffindor, now get in." said Snape. "And before I no longer am bothered to tell you, You may refer to me as Professor Snape."

"Oh." Silas walked towards an empty space. The tables were pushed to the walls and they had cauldrons set atop them.

"We will be working on antidotes today, you should get this potion right as I might just manage to poison you before Christmas, and who knows what antidote could save you then, instructions on the board, if you please."

Silas looked at the board and thought that this was going to be fairly easy, the instructions seemed fairly simple and his potion worked out the way it should've and in the end it looked pretty perfect to him which surprised him because this was the first time he studied Potions, he didn't have it in his old school. Snape was swooping down everyone's necks inspecting their potions and criticising, when he looked down on Silas's potion however, he just grimaced and moved on, which pissed him off a bit.

By the end of the lesson, they were asked to put their potions in a flask and were graded, everyone got a D—well, not everyone, Ethan managed to make his cauldron explode and some of the debris fell into Nell's causing the contents to melt through _his_ cauldron.

SIlas was spared, I got a D+

He was really starting to hate this douche.

. . . . .

Silas barely paid attention in History, their next lesson, he started flipping through his book when something caught his eye, but the pages flew by before he could get a good look at it. Again, he browsed through the entire book slowly until he found the picture again.

It filled an entire page. There were three people in it. A man with red hair smiling at the camera, a woman with bushy brown hair and another man with bright green eyes, messy black hair, a scar clear on his forehead, a man who, unmistakably, was Harry James Potter.

Silas gasped and looked around. His dad reminded him every day to never _ever_ speak his real name allowed, he always wondered why. Now he knew.

Harry Potter was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

. . . . .

It was already the second week of school, Silas woke up to Teddy screaming that it was a Hogsmeade weekend on the next week. Silas turned over, eyeing the stack of unopened envelopes—all from his dad—on his bedside table. He refused to open them until he got an answer. Not just from anyone.

Indeed, Harry Potter was going to have to explain a lot.

. . . . .

Silas practically ran into Hogsmeade, looking everywhere for his old man. His reply didn't come yet and so he left himself with the difficult task of finding a short middle-aged man in an entire village, he hoped he didn't put on those stupid face charms—it always made finding him so much harder.

Silas had never been to Hogsmeade before, although, knowing his dad as much as he did, he was probably in the nearest bar, maybe taking a gulp of Firewhisky. And he was right and thank _goodness_ he didn't cast those face charms.

Silas marched down to his father and slammed his History book on the table separating them. His dad eyed him suspiciously as he flipped page through page until he found the same picture again, bearing the caption "The Golden Trio: (From Left to Right) Ronald Weasley, Harry 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' Potter and Hermione Granger"

"Dad." Silas stared his father down and waited for an answer.

Harry just stared at the book for a moment until he looked up, seeing the betrayal in his son's eyes. "I—was—it… what do you _want_ me to say? That I decided to become 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' on purpose? That I _wanted_ that?"

So _Harry_ was now _blaming_ it on _him!_ "Dad." Silas almost shouted. "It's not _about_ that. It's about hiding me and cutting all your ties. _15 years? _Were you _ashamed_ of me? Is that what this is?" Harry didn't answer so Silas continued. "Dad, you had everything. The moment you knew you had me you decided to just disappear! If you didn't want me that much—if I ruined your reputation—if—if you _were_ ashamed of me, then why didn't you just abort me, huh—?"

"Silas you stop this right now." Harry's tone was low and stern, immediately Silas felt his lip begin to tremble and his eyes water, '_why didn't he just abort me? Then he wouldn't have had to miss what could've been the best years of his life…' _"Silas." He refused to meet his father's gaze, a tear rolled down his cheek and fell down his shirt. Harry brought his thumb to his son's cheek and brushed the tears away. "Silas you need to listen first, all right? Listen to me. Si. Look at me. Hey, kid, come on." He nudged his son's chin. "Smile for me, Jamie." Harry said even though it seemed so hard. Even though his name was Silas.

Harry only called Silas Jamie when they had their father and son moments, he always told Silas that he wanted to put 'James' in his name instead of his second name, 'Jacek,' but his other father would fall into a coma if he did, so sometimes, at those special moments that they rarely seemed to have, he'd call him Jamie. It always made him feel better and his son knew that.

Today, however, Silas felt far from better. He shook his head angrily and Harry withdrew his hand.

Harry looked down at the book and read through it quickly before looking up at his son, "Did you read it?"

"No." Silas sniffed. "I wanted _you_ to explain. I wanted it to be the truth."

"All right. You listen, okay? To every word. Jamie, look at me. Listen." Harry then carried on telling his son his entire past—cutting out the part about his other father, however.

"So… the scar?" said Silas. Harry never showed his son the scar. Ever.

"It's too risky to show here."

"But he's dead. Voldemort's dead."

"He might still have followers."

"What's the point of following a dead man?"

"What's the point of religion? They're all following dead men."

"So… they _worship_ him?"

"In a sense."

"Dad?"

"Hm…?"

"_You're famous._"

"I don't want to be, but, if you want to be straightforward about it, then yeah, I sort of am."

"No one knew you where we lived."

"Face charms."

"Why though?"

"Why what?"

"Why hide me?" Silas looked down. "Hide us."

"Protection."

"_But he's dead!_"

"And for the second time, he still has followers."

"Was that _all?_ You had friends to protect you. You defeated _the most powerful wizard of all time_ and you're afraid of his wimpy minions? What the hell dad?"

"From the press, too."

"But Professor Weasley and Professor Granger aren't being followed—"

"They're Professors? At Hogwarts?"

"Well yeah, but that's not—"

"What do they teach, Ron and Hermione? Or maybe it's Percy teaching—"

"Ron's teaching Quidditch and Hermione Transfiguration, but—"

"Oh wow."

"Dad, listen. Professor Granger and Professor Weasley aren't being followed around, why should they do it to you?"

Harry became silent, refusing the make eye contact with Silas.

"Dad?"

"It's because of your father."

"Because of my…? Oh." Silas scrunched up his eyebrows. "What _about_ my father?"

"Silas, please."

"Please what? I have a right to know. I'm ready. It's all right with me."

"Well it's not all right with me."

"Dad, don't be a coward."

"I'm not being a fucking coward."

"Then act like you aren't. Geez. For one day in my life, _stop_ _acting like a fucking coward_." Harry didn't answer. "Dad just tell me."

"I can't."

"Do you even know who my dad is?"

"For fuck's sake, Silas, of course I do. I'm not some kind of cheap whore." Harry snapped. Silas didn't reply. "I'm sorry. I'm just… frustrated."

"You brought it on."

"You brought it up."

"If you didn't want a kid then why didn't you _think. _You didn't have to be so fucking stupid." Silas got up to leave and Harry didn't stop him. It would prove to be one of the biggest regrets in his life.

Silas reached for the door when his hand caught something else.

"Oh." He looked up. "Professor."

"_Prince_." The man sneered. "I can't imagine who you might be here with."

"What did I do t—"

"Oi, don't you dare talk to your son like that!"

In a second, black and green met.

In a second, two pasts were relived.

In a second, a mistake was replaced by shock.

In a second, a shock was replaced by recognition.

In a second, a boy came to a realization.

A door closed and silence engulfed the two men.

Whilst chaos consumed another.


	3. Chapter 3

Silas woke up the next morning. Everything was a dream. It had to be. He rubbed his face and walked into the bathroom. Snape's son. The thought was ridiculous. Snape. His blood running through his veins? Ridiculous. Ridiculous. Ridiculous.

"Silas, can I borrow your Potions notebook? I forgot to finish mine yesterday."

Snape, who was teaching Silas's first class that day. Shit.

"Sure, it's in the top drawer."

No. No. No. It was an accident. Harry just called him Snape's son by accident. That's all. Harry would _never_... Silas paled, feeling last night's dinner on it's way up. Snape was old enough to be his grandfather. Snape wasn't _gay._ There wasn't anything remotely gay _or_ romantic about the man... but Harry had conceived when he was at school... Harry had cut himself off from everyone he once knew to his him...

No.

It was impossible.

It was ridiculous.

It was laughable.

Snape. Touching his father. Snape. Kissing his father. Snape... _sleeping _with his father? His father, Harry, who had taught him everything, who had never let go of him when he cried on the first day of school, who had been his best friend, who had been so... caring. So _himself_. Snape... having claim on this man he called his father. He felt his dinner going up again.

. . . . .

Silas hadn't eaten much that morning, but he managed to throw up into his cauldron when Snape, who was making his rounds, brushed past him.

"Prince!" Snape yelled, after the contents of the boy's stomach had exploded within a 5 foot radius. "Detention for a week and 50 points from Gryffindor. Go get yourself washed." The boy wasn't moving. "Now."

Silas seemed to regain his composure and shuffled out of the classroom. He walked to the infirmary and told Pomfrey that he felt he might not be able to get to his classes that day. She asked him if he had the flu, since she could cure that in a second, but he just shook his head. Considering the boy's state, Pomfrey allowed him to get some rest for the day and again for the next day when he retched all over his breakfast.

"Do you know what's going on with him, Poppy?"

"It's not a flu... I think he might be in some trauma."

There was silence. Then, "The boy doesn't need a psychiatrist!"

"Maybe he just ought to go home for a bit."

"No. If the boy's vomitting everywhere, he's not to be let go until we find a cure."

"It's not an illness, Severus!"

"How are you so sure?" Silence. "Fine. But we're not letting him go home, agreed?"

"I'm just saying, if he needs to, he should. We're not going soft on him because he's a Gryffindor. We're taking care of him because he's a student.

"A student who's overreacting about something that's probably not even worth acknowledging."

"A student nonetheless, besides, you're not the Headmaster, you can't forbid anything." Then one of them was walking away.

Silas felt a hand on his forehead, brushing aside his hair. These weren't the warm, caring hands of the school nurse. These were the cold, unforgiving ones of his Potions Professor. He felt himself go red... a warning of his food going the other way out and the hand withdrew.

"It's me, isn't it?" The man whispered.  
Silas didn't say anything. He kept his eyes closed.

"That's making you sick?"

"Just leave me." Silas murmured.

"We need to find a way to fix this." Snape said. "You can't just miss school because you can't stand me."

Silas slowly sat up, there was a pause when he seemed to be trying to get his mind in order. "How old are you?"

Snape stared at him.

"How old are you?" Silas repeated.

"45."

"My father's 21 years younger than you. You disgust me." Silas moved away from the man.

He didn't expect the man to bow his head. "You don't know how many times that thought has crossed my mind."

"That I disgust you? You never knew I was alive!" A pause. "Did you?"

"No."

"And you just left him to fend for himself."

"That boy has fought a war. Lead a rebellion. Starved in the woods. Defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time." Snape said. "He could survive anything."

"You haven't seen him as I have." Silas said. "He's broken."

Silas lay back down, facing away from this man, whom he used to hate and now loathed. "Stay away from my family."

. . . . .

"How are you?"

Silas turned from his notes to the girl beside him, he didn't know her name. He didn't know anything about her, but she always sat next to him during Muggle Studies. "What?"

"How are you? You weren't in class for a week."

"I was sick."

"You're better now, aren't you?"

"I am, thanks."

Professor Knight strode into the classroom with a stack of paper in his arms, "Mornin' class." He tipped his head to the side and let the papers drift onto everyone's desk. "What you find on your table should be a Parent's Form allowing you a trip into a muggle village across the valley. Bring those back to me next week, later than that will result in a very lonely weekend. Now, about the muggle clothes, I'm sure you can borrow them from your friends if you don't have them or ask your parents to buy you some, they're not very expensive. Yes, Grey?"

The girl beside Silas put her hand down, "How long will this trip be?"

"It's just going to be on the Saturday two weeks from now, any more questions?"

. . . . .

"Do you have some clothes I could borrow?" The girl asked as the class emptied.

"They're all for boys... and I don't think they'll fit you much, they're not like robes."

She thought about this for a while, "Where do you find muggle clothes?"

"There are shops all over, just ask your parents to go to a mall and look for them."

"Hm... right." She nodded quickly then left.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Teddy with his arms full of pastries. "What'd she want?"

"She was asking where to get muggle clothes, we've got a field trip for muggle studies Saturday after next."

"Oh." He shrugged. "All right."

"Where'd you get those?" Silas stared at the pastries.

"Oh, I hid them behind one of the suits of armour. We're planning a little birthday party for Louis in the common room. Victoire's brother? He's in first year with Fred."

"Never seen him before... does he look like Victoire?"

"Yeah, and he hangs out a lot with Fred, but usually has a hoarde of girls after him, quarter Veela and all." He looked a bit irritated. "Can have any girl he wants, can't he?"

"I guess so..." Silas was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"With his stupid blonde hair and his stupid blue eyes and his stupid good looks." Teddy was starting to crush the cinnamon rolls and the spinach puffs. "Just because he's half _Veela_." He rolled his eyes and turned angrily.

Silas followed and after a while, Teddy continued his rant. "All their family's half _Veela_." He sneered. "Like Dominique and _Victoire_. Flaunting around the castle with their stupid blonde hair and their stupid boyfriends."

Now, Silas was starting to understand a bit.

"_'Oh, Eric! Thanks for the rose! It's lovely_'" Teddy pretended to vomit. "And when I give _her_ something, she just ignores me. Stupid Veelas. What if I shoved that stupid rose up Eric's mouth. Say thank you to that, will he?"

"I think you need to calm down a bit, Ted."

"No I will _not_ calm down!" He yelled, the cinnamon rolls lay forgotten on the ground. "She _knew_ that I liked her! She _knew_! And she struts around the common room snogging him! It's fucking stupid!"

"How do _you_ know she knew?"

"'Cause I fucking well told her!" He yelled, stepping on a bun. "This is _just_ like her!" He turned and disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Silas' shoulders sagged and he knelt down to pick up the pastries. He had never seen Teddy this angry before. Scratch that. He had never seen Teddy angry.

. . . . .

Silas knew he had to do this. It was Sunday and he still didn't have his form signed. He couldn't send the letter home because it was under a Fidelius Charm and owls can't very well read, can they? He walked down the stairs to the dungeon, letter in hand.

"Sir." He said and knocked. "Sir."

The door opened, revealing a very frustrated Snape, his left sleeve looked hastily pushed down and he could see blood staining the man's hand. "Yes, Prince?"

"Your hand."

"It's none of your business." He hastily pulled his sleeve down lower. "Now what's made you come here?"

"I need you to sign a letter, sir."

"Who's it from? Minerva?" The man snatched the letter from Silas's hand and he read through it, his eyes stayed at the last line. "Why don't you have your father sign this?" He handed the letter back, but Silas refused to accept it.

"He cast a Fidelius Charm around the house and I'm betting he's already moved into the new one where our owl has never been to, so I can't send it to him... you're my only family other than him and my sister." There. He's said it.

"I thought your father wanted to keep it a secret? Me being your father."

Silas bit his lip. "Then sign under a different name, sir."

"They'll be checking the signature along with the school records, you could have forged it yourself, Prince." The man was starting to look irritated.

"I couldn't remember his signature." Silas said. "And I wanted to talk about my father."

Snape stared him down, then moved aside, allowing the boy entry. He didn't look around, he just found the nearest chair and sat. Snape walked around the desk and sat across from him. "I was never very close to your father."

"Does he have any relatives here, sir?"

"They're muggles. I don't know much about them."

"How about you, sir? Do I have cousins?"

"No. Not from my line."

"Uncles?"

Snape shook his head.

"None?"

"None."

He was the only relative Snape had left. For some reason, the thought upset him. Harry Potter always had him and Lily. This man. This man had nothing. He had nobody to care for. In turn, nobody cared for him. Would he learn to care for the boy? Care, again, for his father? How had he managed to carry on these past few years?

Silas realised, he knew nothing of this man and he had judged him far too quickly.

"What do _you_ do? Are you just a teacher? ...Did you teach my father?"

"Right now, yes. I'm just a teacher and yes, I used to teach your father. You're a far better student, though. Good thing you take after me." The words seemed to be out before he could stop them.

A small smile appeared on the boy's lips, "Too bad I look like you, though. _Obviously_, dad was a looker."

"He was. Yes."

"Did he have any other boyfriends? Girlfriends?"

"Two, before me. Both girls."

"Stalking him?" Silas raised an eyebrow.

"He didn't hide it very well."

"Are they married?"  
"Yes."

"Do I know any of their kids?"

"No, they're not old enough to go to school, yet."

Pause. "Did _you_ have any boyfriends?"

"No."

There was a silence, then. "Why don't I ask about you?"

Silas quickly turned towards his Potions Professor, "What?"

"Do you have any siblings?"

"Her name's Lily."

There was a long pause, then, slowly, so slowly that no one could have seen it unless they were close enough, a smile formed on the man's lips, it wasn't noticeable, but it was there. On his lips. In his eyes."How does she look like?"

"Like her mother."

"None of Potter's genes seem to be passing on to his children very well."

"I have his hair... and one of my eyes used to be hazel. Dad said grandpa's eyes were hazel."

Snape's jaw stiffened and the smile was gone.

"Used to be?"

"Lily's got dad's nose though. It's just like his." Silas said, ignoring Snape's comment. "It's this little button nose... the rest are Allison's features. She used to be blonde, but it turned brown when she was four and she's got pale blue eyes and they're always twinking. We have staring contests, she always looks like she's seeing right through me."

"Second name?" An image of the same twinkling blue eyes, twinkling behind half moon spectacles popped into Snape mind. The same blue eyes of a girl. Of a sister. He had a very good idea of what it might be.

"Eileen."

This took Snape back a little. Eileen. The only person that has protected him. Loved him. The Potter boy had named his daughter this. This was what the Potter boy had done for him. This small gesture. He would have never seen it coming... after all these years.

"It's a beautiful name."

"Mine's awful, though. I'm sure you've seen it on my file."

"No, I haven't."

"It's Jacek." Silas wrinkled his nose. "It means Lily. Dad seems to be obsessed with Lilies."

"It was your grandmother's name."

"Oh." Then Silas looked down again, "I thought you wanted to know more about me. Go on. Ask."

"Where were you brought up?"

"I was born in Purchase, then, we moved to Idaho when I was 3. When I turned 6, we moved to Azkatraz. When I was 9, we moved to Nashville. When I turned 10, we moved to Los Angeles. When I turned 11, we moved to Ann Arbor and now I'm here."

"Why the moving?"

"I don't know..." Silas admitted. "It's always been normal for me, I guess."

"Any... disabilities?"

Silas shifted in his seat.

"You don't have to-"

"I was diagnosed with eye cancer when I was born, I've got a glass eye where the hazel one should've been. I was born without the lower part of my left leg, that's my knee and anything that comes under. I'm allergic to strawberries and... that's pretty much it. Disabilities aren't rare in male pregnancies, right?"

Snape nodded slowly.

"I thought that... if you were my father... we shouldn't have any secrets. But I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention them to anyone." Silas said, getting up. "If you're not signing that form, sir..."

"No, wait. Here." Snape signed it quickly and handed him the letter and Silas nodded and walked out, then stopped at the doorway.

"You said I didn't have any cousins... from your line."

"I'm not sure about Harry's, but he has a muggle cousin. I know no more than that."

Silas nodded. "Thank you."

Snape couldn't take his eyes off the boy's leg, where his pants inched up the tiniest bit as he walked. He could see a flash of silver. In a second, it was gone.

. . . . .

Silas walked down towards the Quidditch Pitch with Teddy. The try-outs were being held that day and Teddy was going to try-out for chaser.

"I would've tried last year, but the positions were all filled in before I could." Teddy said. "You sure you don't want to try out?"

Silas chuckled. "No, I'm deathly afraid of heights."

"You can't be so sure."

Silas cleared his throat, it's been going sore all week. "You've never seen me on a plane."

"What's that?"

"It's... what muggles use to fly. It's like a bus with wings."

"How strange." Teddy said, then laughed. "Muggle have such a way with things."

Before Silas could answer, he found himself thrown back with his face covered in slobber.

"Fang! Fang yeh get back righ' 'ere this instan'!" He heard someone yell. "Fang yeh mangy mutt!"

The weight was lifted off of him and he gasped as he wiped his face with his sweater.

"Fang's no' usually like this." said Hagrid as Fang tried to jump out from his arms. "He does it when he's recognised someone, but never ter new people."

"Um... yeah." Silas said, backing away.

"What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't." Silas said. "And it's Prince."

"You're not in Care of Magical Creatures, are you?"

"No, sir."

"No need to call me 'sir'." Hagrid rolled his eyes.

"Well, we're off now!" Teddy said."Quidditch try outs, you know?"

"Well, good luck ter both of yeh." Hagrid waved at them.

Silas spent the rest of the tryouts on the bleachers, sitting next to one Sarah Grey who he got to know more after that Muggle Studies class. They sat in silence until he snorted when he heard Teddy arguing with Isaac Wood, the Quidditch captain.

"I _swear_ it was an accident!"

"Goldman was in the middle of _nowhere_, Lupin, and you aimed the quaffle right at him."

"Well, he shouldn't have been hanging in the middle of nowhere, right?" Teddy shot back.

"Lupin, one more word and you're banned. You did very well on..."

Silas shook his head and continued laughing, "He's had a grudge on Goldman since he started dating Victoire."

"Eric?" Sarah said. "He's a nice guy."

"Not according to Teddy's book." Silas sighed and leaned back, then he turned to Sarah. "Did they use to date?"

"I don't know. I was never really close to them." She said. "There _have_ been rumours though."

"Good enough for me." He dug around his pockets. "Chocolate frog?"

. . . . .

After the talk, father and son were left to ignore each other again. The only evidence of their meeting were the portraits staring at them and whispering whenever they crossed paths in the hall.

It was only when the Fourth Years had touched the topic of Dark Arts that unsettled Snape. He'd heard from Professor Creevey (who he still thought was an unsuitable replacement for their last DADA teacher) that they've started studying the Unforgivables, his lessons were nothing like Crouch's, but they seemed to interest the boy more than the other lessons did and this worried Snape greatly.

"Prince." Snape said after he dismissed the class. The boy was trying to squeeze a book into his already filled bag and didn't hear, he was trying to pry two books apart to wedge the other one in. "Prince." The boy dragged his bag to the ground and stepped on the book, holding on to the sides of the bag. The book folded and he sighed, not realising that everyone was out of the classroom and he was alone with Snape, he looked up, glaring. "A word." Snape said once he got the boy's full attention.

Prince pulled out the book from his bag and added it to the stack in his arms, then walked towards the Professor's desk. "Yes, sir?" The boy's voice was lower. More mature and just as mellifluous as the Potions Master. It was unnerving to hear the echo of his own adolescence staring back at him. Speaking to him.

"I've been hearing from Professor Creevey."

Silas waited.

"You've taken an interest in the Dark Arts?"

"And?"

"It worries me."

Silas just stared.

"I've made mistakes dealing with the Dark Arts, Silas."

"I'm not planning to hurt anyone with it!" said Silas defensively.

"That sounds awfully familiar."

"It's saved people's lives." Silas said.

"For a horrible price, I promise you."

Silas stared at him in disbelief, "You think I'm going to hurt someone with it? You think I could hate someone that bad?"

"The Dark Arts aren't a joke, Silas. They're not something to be played with. Not something to be experimented with. If an accident occurs-"

"It's helped _me_ out in the past, but you don't see _me_ walking around hexing people."

"Silas..." Snape shook his head. "I know you're a good kid... but I'm responsible for you."

"You don't have to be." Silas said. "You don't have to worry about it. It's not like I'm experimenting. Only reading."

"You've grown on me. I don't want to lose you."

Silas stood there awkwardly. "Well... I have to go, sir."

"Silas." Snape said as the boy moved towards the door. "If you... If you find something about me in there. Just... Just don't judge me too quickly. There were reasons to how I acted. Promise me."

"Did you kill anyone?"

Snape was silent.

"I can't promise, then." Silas said. "You're not giving me a lot to work with."

. . . . .

"I can't believe him!" Silas yelled out.

"What?" Teddy said, rubbing his eyes and rolling out of bed.

"Severus Snape, _our_ Potions Master, was a Death Eater? As in, killing people. Torturing people."

"Everyone knows _that_." Teddy said.

"Well, I didn't!" Silas said. "And look here, _Harry Potter_ cleared his name. _Cleared his name?_ How stupid was that!"

Teddy got off the floor and sat on the edge of Silas's bed, "Well, Professor Weasley and Granger helped clear his name, too."

"They were friends with Harry Potter right?"

"Right."

"You think they'd let me ask them about this?"

"Why are you so interested in this stuff?"

"The States weren't much involved in the war, was it? If we're having Death Eaters working in the school... well I don't think they're to be trusted."

"I wouldn't act so rashly about that." Teddy said. "Calm down, mate. It was years ago."

"You never know when someone could turn on you, you know." Silas said, tucking the book under his arm and walking out of the dorm.

"Where are you off to?"

"A walk." Silas said.

. . . . .

"Professor?" Silas said, catching Ron in the middle of an empty hall.

The man stilled, "Yes?"

"I've got a question to ask you."

Ron turned around and sighed in relief when he saw Silas walking towards him. "Dear Merlin, I thought you were Snape, but don't get offended... erm... that's... that's just how everyone sounds to me." Silas didn't look very convinced. "Well, about this question?"

"I read somewhere that you cleared Snape's name? As a Death Eater?"

"Helped cleared it, reluctantly though. Harry was very... persistent with it. Harry Potter, I mean." Ron said.

"What was it that made him do it?"

"It's a... personal thing, you shouldn't be meddling into other's business, boy."

"Do you know what happened to Harry Potter, sir?"

The life no longer existed in the man's eyes. "No."

Silas wanted so badly to tell him that he knew. He knew where Harry Potter was. He knew how he was. He knew how he looked. Knew how he sounded. He was his father and they had kept each other secret. He felt that he was selfish for keeping the man secret. Felt selfish for keeping _himself_ secret. To everyone, he wasn't a Potter. He was just Prince. The boy who didn't tell anyone of his parents or his life. He knew Harry Potter was alive and he was bursting to tell, but there were ways to kill people with words and with thoughts and he knew that even though Harry Potter was very much alive, Harry Potter was in fact, dead. Dead in these people's thoughts. Dead in his own paranoid thoughts. There was no point in telling someone that a dead man was truly, fully, alive. Because a dead man wouldn't rise from his grave. Because Harry Potter wouldn't come out of hiding. And so Harry Potter had to stay dead in these people's thoughts. And that's how it was meant to stay. "I'm sorry for your loss." There really wasn't anything left to say.

. . . . .

"Bye Teddy!" Silas said as he walked down the steps to follow the Muggle Studies group. Teddy was never allowed out of Hogwarts and Silas was starting to feel sorry for him, but everyone insisted that it was for his own safety that he was confined in the castle and Teddy seemed to accept it, which was strange, as Teddy was never one to obey rules.

Silas walked alongside Sarah, who he got to know very well over the past few days, as they walked to the nearest muggle village. A lot of their classmates have never gone near one and were rather enthusiastic about touching everything they could see, which wasn't a very good cover, but no one saw Professor Knight telling them to stop, as he was just as fascinated as they were.

Silas and Sarah, who had both grown up surrounded by muggles decided to head over to the nearest Ice Cream Parlour when the doorbells rang and in walked a young man with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Wotcher." He said, walking towards the pair.

"Teddy!" Sarah hissed, they had gotten to know each other a little because of Silas. "What are you doing here? You're not allowed!"

"Really?" Teddy said, turning his seat around and leaning his arms on the spine. He smiled lazily at the two. "Said who?"

"Said McGonagall and everyone else we know!" Sarah said.

"I don't see Silas complaining."

"You really shouldn't be here, Ted." Silas said halfheartedly.

"Well, I'm here and there's no stopping me, really."

"How'd you get in here anyway?" Silas asked.

Teddy sighed, "The things you could do with a charmed cloak and a map."

"They'll find out you're here." Sarah said.

"Hello?" Teddy said. "Disguises are easy." He pointed to his mop of brown hair and the features that he decided to change.

"You can never be sure."

They walked out when they finished eating.

"Teddy?" Silas said as they walked past a book shop into a trail in the woods that would lead them back to the school. "Why aren't you allowed out? I mean, what could be so-" His next words were drowned out by a growl coming from their right.

Silas turned his head to find Teddy lying in a bloody heap on the ground with the beast on top of him, it wasn't human. It couldn't be human. Silas hurriedly searched for his wand and had just enough time to yell out a spell before the beast attacked him. One word fell from it's thin lips before the world disappeared and all he could hear was Sarah's terrified scream.

One word.

It was all it took.

"Potter."

Then the nightmares began.

**(A/N) Okay, I give in. Please please please review. It really helps me with my writing and lets me know that I'm not wasting my time on this (but I do have to admit, it's been real fun writing this) but it's sort of awkward sitting here thinking... "Now what."**


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